iDig Wordplay
by PhunkyBrewster
Summary: Two people can share so many moments that, at times, it can seem impossible to find the words to signify what they've become. These are the best times to get creative. A collection of Creddie drabbles using words with double meanings. iDon't own iCarly.
1. Toast

_Toast [__**tohst**__] noun _

_1. sliced bread that has been browned by dry heat. _

He briefly toyed with the idea of taking a picture of her face at this very moment, just to have a proper illustration of why breakfast was his favorite meal of the day. It was when she chose to eat something with the most unruly crumbs, like toast, that provided optimal satisfaction. As the tiny crumbs clung to the corners of her mouth, he silently thanked them for giving him a reason to stare at her beautiful lips.

"Hey, Carly," Freddie called gently, scratching at the mirrored spot on his own mouth. "You've got a little toast on your lip."

* * *

_Toast [__**tohst**__] noun _

_2. a salutation or a few words of congratulation, good wishes, appreciation, remembrance, etc., uttered immediately before drinking to a person, event, etc. _

The crowd held their champagne flutes aloft in the air and her vision blurred with delightful tears. As her brother spoke of unflinching love, her thoughts wandered, as they had all afternoon, to how far they had come. She had grown up ('_Thank God!_'). She had learned through him that love was so much more than cute hair and fun kisses. It was who they became when they were together. It was everything she got from him that she still felt like she didn't deserve, but accepted under the condition that she would be given the chance to try - _simply try_ - to give as good as she got. And she would do it gladly.

"To the bride and groom!"

* * *

**A/N: This is an idea that has been haunting me for quite some time and I, apparently, just had to get it underway. Here is a brief explanation: this is a collection of drabbles based on homonyms (words that sound and are spelled the same, but have different meanings) and heterographs (words that are pronounced the same, but are spelled differently and have different meanings). These glimpses won't necessarily follow the same timeline; these collections are all about potential moments that, hopefully, we can all find some sort of connection with. **

**And for the record, I'm still working on iHit the Road 2. I'm just trying to stay sharp. :o)**

**I hope you all enjoy these! I do not have a set number of installments, so this will remain an ongoing project until I feel like it has officially worn out it's welcome. I hope everyone is doing well!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	2. Heel & Heal

_heel__[__**heel**__] noun_

_1. the back part of the human foot, below and behind the ankle. _

"The _heels_ of my _feet_?" Carly mimicked in disbelief. Freddie took a break from the hand massage he was administering in order to lift the delicate foot resting in his lap. He examined it carefully.

"Actually, you'd probably consider it the arch more than the heel itself…"

"If that's not the straaaaangest-"

"You asked, babe," Freddie said defensively, though his voice had an undertone of laughter, as he returned to gently kneading the palm of her hand with his thumbs.

"Yeah, thinking you'd say my lips, or eyes, or **anything** else, but the _bottom of my feet_? Weird."

Freddie daringly looked her in the eyes. "Alright. Ask me again, Shay."

Carly squared her shoulders and squinted her eyes suspiciously before asking, "Freddie, what do you think is my sexiest asset?"

He held his stare an replied smugly, "Original answer stands."

The brunette laughed and tossed the nearest pillow, just barely missing his head. "You're a freak, Benson."

He chuckled. "And you love me still."

"Yeah, against my better judgment."

* * *

_Heal [__**heel**__] verb (use without object)_

_ become whole or sound; mend; get well_

I never knew I could feel this awful…more importantly, I never imagined being capable of causing this much pain.

All I had to do to prevent his accident was look both ways before I crossed the stupid street, something everyone is taught when we're five. Instead, I managed to almost get hit by a truck…and I would have totally deserved it, had he not saved me.

Looking at his peaceful face (which I'm sure is peaceful due to, in large part, the super strong pain meds), it kills me even more to see how broken he looks in his cast, with all his scrapes and bruises, in this huge hospital bed. Such a contrast from his comfortably rested expression. All the times I rejected him, just because I was too chicken to face my own feelings, didn't stop him from risking his life to save mine. The mere idea of losing him before having the chance to tell him how I feel renders me breathless and heartbroken.

I lean over his slumbering frame, hesitant at first, then I pressed a kiss to his unknowing lips…and I hope this is the first step to healing us both.

* * *

**A/N: "Heel" is actually the first drabble I had written in my head, but I had no clue what to title it. I thought of "heal" today while at lunch. :o)**

**If you're reading this, thank you so much! I appreciate everyone who reviewed and added the story to their alerts/favorites. Please don't hesitate to leave a review!**

**Have a great night and Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	3. Mail & Male

_Mail [__**meyl**__] noun_

_1. letters, packages, etc., that are sent or delivered by means of the postal system. _

"That's a pretty postcard, Freddie!"

He looked up from the loopy script on the back of the card at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. "Oh, yeah," he agreed. Freddie flipped the card to briefly look at the scene, then pointed at it and said brightly "_Italia!"_

"Oh!" Carly replied, then paused for a moment before she hesitantly asked, "So…who's in Italy?"

"Uh, Val."

"Val?" she repeated in amazement. "I had no clue you still talked to her!"

Freddie shrugged. "Yeah, we chat here and there. She's visiting family for the summer."

Carly crossed her arms, adopting a defensive stance. "Wow, I didn't know you guys were such good friends."

* * *

_Male [__**meyl**__] noun_

_2. A person bearing an X and Y chromosome in the cell nuclei and normally having a penis, scrotum, and testicles, and developing hair on the face at adolescence; a boy or man._

"So then she's all like, 'Freddie, if you can't see why I'm upset, then there's no point in me trying to explain it to you!'" Freddie recounted in his best 'Carly' impression as he chucked the dart at the board hanging in the studio. "Seriously, a stupid _postcard_! What gives, Spencer?"

"Women," the lanky man replied with a sigh. "Complicated riddles, my man. Relationships would be so much simpler if they just thought more like men!"

"Men are straight forward beings," Freddie added. "No frills."

"We get things done! We're **rockstars**!"

"I'll tell you what, we don't play games! I mean, if she were still friends with that guy Steven and didn't tell me about it, I'd…"

He didn't bother finishing that sentence because it was obvious to him how he would react. He'd be pissed. While he wouldn't assume that feelings lingered, it would still annoy him that someone she once cared for was worming his way back into her life, no matter how much time had passed…

"Nevermind, Spence," Freddie insisted with an air of defeat. "Men are idiots."

Spencer shrugged while keeping his concentration on the board. "Meh. I think it depends on the day."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you all like this pair of drabbles! I would truly appreciate it if you took a moment to review! Seriously, you have no idea how awesome it is to hear from you all. **

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	4. Cell

_**Warning**: this collection is rated "T" for language and themes._

* * *

_Cell [**sel**] noun_

_1. Mobile phone_

_Bzzzzzzz!_

"If this is Steven, I'm throwing this thing out the window," she grumbled as she grabbed her Pear Phone to view the incoming text, eager to return to her task of staring blankly at the wall.

**From: Freddie**

**hey pretty girl. :)  
****how r u feeling?  
**

**Apr 15, 12:02 am**

In spite of her dawning depression, she smiled at Freddie's concern.

**pretty terrible, but i'll  
get over it. Thx ****:)**

**To: Freddie  
Sent: Apr 15, 12:03 am**

She pressed "send" and returned her attention to the nondescript spot on the wall.

_Bzzzzzz!_

**From: Freddie**

**u don't have to get  
over it 2nite. wanna  
watch the girly cow  
movie? i can send a text  
2 sam. **

**Apr 15, 12:05 am**

"_Seriously_," she thought with an even bigger smile than the first. "_Screw Steven._"

**Bring Twizzlers. ****:)**

**To: Freddie  
Sent: Apr 15, 12:07 am**

* * *

_Cell [__**sel**__] noun_

_2. A small room, as in a convent or prison._

The couple entered the apartment, their heads hung in shame. They were followed by their roommate and best friend, Sam, who dropped the keys on the nearest armchair and removed her coat only to haphazardly drop it by the door. It didn't take long for her eyes to betray the familiar twinkle of mischief before addressing them with crossed arms as they flopped onto the couch.

"If anyone had told me that one day it would be **me** picking **you two **up from the big house -"

"Saaaaam," Freddie groaned, his voice underlined with warning.

"I would have obviously called them a liar-"

"Drop it, Sam!" Carly pleaded, her head in her hands as she doubled over.

"- and then I would have _laaaaaaaughed-"_

"OKAY!" Freddie shouted. "We get it! It's not a big deal, really. It was just campus police and it happens all the time. We'll probably get a little community service and that's it."

Sam's eyes grew almost twice their size. "Uhh, getting arrested for _lewd public behavior_ seems like a pretty big deal-io, if you ask me! I mean, getting freak nasty in the back of your car in a public park-"

"For the record," Carly rushed to defend, "we were just making out! Yes, my top was…somewhere…along with my jeans…"

"And I had my socks and boxers on," Freddie added. "We weren't…you know…"

"Oh, but given another minute, you would have been," Sam chimed in. Then she thought for a moment before adding, "Given another thirty seconds after _that_ and you would have been finished."

"SAM!" cried the mortified couple, in unison.

"I'm just sayin'!" Sam exclaimed with a shrug and a smirk.

* * *

**A/N: I hope everyone is doing well. I was literally working on this and chapter 12 of "iHit the Open Road II" simultaneously. Multi-tasking at its finest. Hahaha!**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please review, if it strikes your fancy. I'm making a better effort to respond to everyone individually. I truly appreciate the feedback!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	5. Nerve

_Nerve [__**nurv**__] noun_

_1. One or more bundles of fibers forming part of a system that conveys impulses of sensation, motion, etc., between the brain or spinal chord and other parts of the body._

I doubt she'll ever get what a simple touch from her does to me. Her fingertips barely graze my wrist as she nurses the newly acquired gash on the top of my hand. It should hurt, as deep as the cut is, but I'm overcome with the sensation that occurs whenever we make contact, as inconsequential as it may seem. It feels like every nerve, every hair, stands on end and my last breath abandons me. I close my eyes, willing myself to not react, but the goose bumps…

"Cold?" she asked, dabbing a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol. That smile. I can't.

"Uh," I stutter. Then I laugh, because what else can I do?

She shakes her head, still smiling. "This could sting a little."

Again, I know how I _should_ feel, but all I feel is…fire? Electricity? I feel like each nerve ending is absorbing something joyous beyond measure. This has no connection to alcohol, whatsoever.

She could never understand. _I_ don't even understand.

Before I know it, she's applying a band-aid over the cut (one with hearts. Typical.) and smiling at me again.

"Better?"

"Much."

* * *

_Nerve [__**nurv**__] noun_

_2. Boldness_

I'm completely aware of how stupid this is.

This is Freddie. We've been best friend for years. The nice clothes, the fancy restaurant, and the fact that we have dubbed this a 'date' doesn't change any of that. Carrying a conversation and **not **knocking over salt shakers should come naturally.

"So the movie was a little more intense than I thought it would be," he said with a raise of a single eyebrow. He took a small bite of a mozzarella stick.

"Yeah, more violent than I expected. Don't get me wrong, I liked the movie!" I don't know why I felt the need to ease a blow that I never dealt, I just didn't want to offend him.

He shrugged. "It's cool if you didn't like it. I'm on the fence about it myself. I'm just glad that I got to spend time with you, regardless."

I think I'm blushing, which is, again, stupid. "Me, too." Then, as I reach for the pepper, I manage to tip over the basket of rolls in the middle of the table. One rolls to the floor and travels all the way to the table across from us.

"Oops!" Freddie laughed as he salvaged the bread that remained on the table.

"Freddie, how are you not a bowl of nerves?" I blurted, burying a hand in my hair. "Better yet, _why am I_?"

Freddie just smiled and gently laid his hand over the one I had remaining on the table.

"Maybe…maybe you know that, should this go well, this could be the start of something…incredible. Everything we've known about us would change. Well, not _everything_, but a lot."

He was right. "And that doesn't scare you?"

Freddie made sure to establish eye contact with me before replying, "Never has."

He squeezed my hand, easing the butterflies that were marching a parade in my stomach. Then he grabbed a roll from the basket and offered it to me. "Bread?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! As always, a review is most welcome. Have a great weekend!  
**


	6. Hoarse & Horse

_Hoarse [__**hohrs**__] adjective_

_1. Having a vocal tone characterized by weakness of intensity and excessive breathiness.; husky_

Freddie Benson had a secret: he had purposely caused this fight between himself and Carly.

Just like he had caused the one they had a few weeks ago and the one a month before _that._

These fights were never serious; in fact, they were what those in serious relationships call 'nothing fights.'

They were never about anything terribly risky or substantial and were never elevated to a truly personal level. They were silly arguments had by two people who often held on stubbornly to differing opinions about things that just…_really shouldn't matter. _The volume and passion in their voices made them seem much more momentous than they actually were.

But the end result was always a treat: her eyes would spark, the waves in her hair seemed to expand somehow, and her cheeks would flush gorgeously.

And in the end, once their voices were hoarse and they were absolutely exhausted, they would collapse on the couch in each other's arms, not quite coming to an agreement but somehow calling it a draw, nonetheless. It would end with playful teasing, a kiss or two, maybe even him carrying her to his bedroom…

But he was ahead of himself. Back to the issue at hand.

"It's pronounced _car-mel_, Freddie! Everyone knows that!" she bellowed.

He held up the candy bar wrapper, pointing at the word in question "Oh, yeah? Well, explain to me why the extra 'a' is here, Carly. Huh? How about **that**?"

* * *

_Horse [__**hohrs**__] noun_

_1. A large, solid-hoofed, herbivorous quadruped, Equus caballus, domesticated since prehistoric times, bred in a number of varieties, and used for carrying and pulling loads, for riding, and for racing._

"Coming up next on The Gladys Marx Show-"

_Click. _

"Oh, Devon, how could you? With my sister? At my FATHER'S FUNERAL?"

_Click_.

"Just flip it on and in just a few hours you have _delicious_ beef jerky-"

_Click._

"Join us here on the Animal Channel as we take a closer look at one of nature's most majestic beasts: 'Horses: From Ponies to Pageantry."

His eyes twinkled with mirth as he sat back with a laugh.

"Oh-ho-ho, _yes_. Just what I've been _dying_ to see."

With a steady blush creeping up to her cheeks, Carly reached for the remote. "C'mon, Sam and Spencer will be back from Groovy Smoothie any minute, they won't want to watch this."

Freddie swayed the remote out of her reach. "No, no. I want to learn a little more about this _barn_ you knew so much about!"

"Dang it, Freddie, change the channel!" she demanded, with a slight laugh.

"You wish!" And with that, Freddie placed the remote just under his butt, protectively sitting on it. Carly sat back in defeat, covering her eyes in embarrassment.

"Ugh! I should have never told you _anything_."


	7. Lost

_Lost [__**lawst**__] adjective_

_1. Having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc._

They have passed this particular tree for the third time, of this she was certain. Taking notice of the setting sun, she moaned something about getting eaten by coyotes before successfully finding the campsite. He laughs (but not necessarily **at** her) before assuring her that their fate does not include becoming a feast for coyotes and that they will eventually find Sam, Spencer, and their RV. She digs in her pocket for her phone for the eleventh time, hoping that she will finally be rewarded with a minimal amount of signal strength to allow for a forty second phone call for help. When she whimpers her disappointment once again, he sees it as his cue to gently circle his fingers around her wrist, give her a gentle smile, and remind her that they are in this (wherever _this_ is) together and that they will eventually make their way back. She doesn't admit it out loud, but she feels just the tiniest bit settled. And as they blindly walk in a direction that they hope will lead them to their weekend home, she's grateful that she has him…amongst the infinite trees, wildflowers, and steadily darkening skies.

* * *

_Lost [__**lawst**__] adjective_

_2. No longer possessed or retained_

_Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Fredward Benson. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Have a great one!_

["Record your message after the tone. When finished, hang up or press 'pound' for more options."]

***Beep***

"Hey, Freddie, it's Carly again. Soooo, it's been about fourteen hours since I left my _last _message, so I guess I can forget any hopes that you haven't heard it yet. I'll just skip straight to the apology. I'm really sorry for the entire pitcher of margaritas I consumed last night that led to the ridiculously embarrassing message I left for you at 3 a.m. For the record, this was Wendy's fault! Damn her for insisting that I 'loosen up.' Please don't think I'm some pathetic creeper.

I should clarify that I'm apologizing for calling so late and sounding so insane. I'm not apologizing for what I said, which I surprisingly remember. I know…I know at the time, I had a lot of reasons for why we couldn't stay together. The distance, our schedules, the fighting, it was all so much that it made our chances look bleak. It's been a few years, but I'm sorry for not fighting for us more. I'm glad we were able to salvage some sort of friendship, but…Freddie you were the best thing that ever happened to me and I wasn't strong enough for us. That's what I'm _really _sorry about. Freddie…Freddie, I still lo-"

["End of message. Please press 'pound' for more-"]

_Click._


	8. There & Their & They're

_There [__**thair**__] adverb_

_1. In or at that place._

The scene included a contemporary living room, a dwindling bottle of white wine, and two laughing friends, lounging on the rug and reconnecting in a way that they hadn't in years.

"Good wine," Carly breathed through her laughter.

Freddie reigned in his chuckles for a brief moment. "Well, it's no pitcher of margaritas, but…"

"Oh, _ha ha_," she retorted sarcastically. "If it hadn't been for that bold voicemail, we wouldn't be here now."

"Well, you're right about that," he conceded with a warm smile. "Remind me one day to play it back for you. It was…interesting."

"Is that all it was?" she dared to ask, meeting his eyes with her own. "Interesting?"

He thought for a second while he toyed with the rim of his wine glass. "No, not just interesting. It was…welcome. Wanted. Rewarding. What I've dreamed of you saying ever since we broke up…only with less alcohol and considerably less clothing."

Carly laughed boisterously once again. "Well, repeating myself now wouldn't do much to satisfy that fantasy, considering how much wine I've had." She waved her empty glass for emphasis. She waited for his clever reply, but was only met with a warm gaze and a serene half-smile.

"I've missed you," he revealed quietly.

The sincerity in his voice stole her breath momentarily. "We've hung out a lot in the past few years, Freddie," she reasoned.

"I know, but not …" he gestured back and forth vaguely between the two of them in attempts to get her to understand without using so many words. "Still. I've _missed _you."

Carly exhaled slowly, understanding his meaning entirely. She had felt the same way. "I missed you, too. So much."

With that, Freddie put his glass down, leaned forward, and gently cupped her face as he placed a lingering kiss on her smiling lips. In that moment, she didn't dote on their future or dwell on their past. In that moment, she was just delighted to be there.

* * *

_Their [__**thair**__] pronoun_

_1. A form of the possessive case of 'they.'_

"I know it's just above what you both were looking to spend," the realtor approached carefully, her voice reverberating in the empty house, "but if you think about the cost versus how much space you'd be getting, it really is a steal. A corner lot in a neighborhood like this would typically go for about seventeen percent more than what the owner is asking for."

Freddie nodded slowly, considering the realtor's pitch. He tried to look over at his wife's face to gauge her reaction. Instead, he found her gazing out the sliding glass door facing the spacious backyard. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"Carly bear?"

"We could set up a tire swing there," she said with a nod of her chin towards the large, sturdy tree. "Ooh, and we can get one of those nice tents when we host barbecues and stuff."

Freddie smirked at her excitement. "So that's why we should buy? For the swing and the rocking parties?" He eased his teasing with a quick kiss on her shoulders.

She giggled and shook her head. "No, not for the parties. We should buy it because it's ours. I know it."

He knew she was right. It was their home. Without letting her go, he turned to the hopeful realtor. "Alright. Let's make an offer."

* * *

_They're [__**thair**__]_

_1. Contraction of 'they are.'_

They are friends. Best friends.

They are trying to make it out of high school, semi-unscathed.

They are still figuring out their relationship, though they are both beginning to get the idea.

They are still doing that thing where he looks at her longingly, then quickly looks away when she looks at him, hoping not to get caught. She does the same thing, too. It's hilarious.

During the rare moments when she really misses her dad (and at times, her mom) and he's upset about his mother and lack of a father figure, they are immensely grateful for each other.

They are getting used to the teasing pet names from Sam: lovebirds, kissy cats, snuggle nuggets…

They are happiest when they are alone in the studio, watching a movie and cuddled up on the bean bag chair.

They are just fine with the current status of their bond and will officially come out as a couple when they are good and ready, thankyoueversokindly.

With Sam, they are a trio. Without her, they are Creddie, which typically elicits an "awww" from her and a loving eye roll from him.

They are the best versions of them whenever they are around each other, which is exactly why they are so drawn to each other.

In short…they are awesome.

* * *

**A/N: This was a little fluff-tastic. I realize this. I don't know if I should apologize for that or pat myself on the back.**

**Thanks for those who are reading this story! In addition, thanks to those who are reading iHit the Open Road II! I've felt like the reader activity has trickled down lately, so it's nice to see some still interested. It keeps the stories alive, so I appreciate you all devoting your time to read and especially review. **

**Please review the story, if you can! I would really appreciate it, obviously. Hope you are all doing well! Have a great holiday**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	9. Unload

_Unload [__**un-lode**__] verb_

_1. To relieve of something burdensome or oppressive; unburden_

Six months later, as they lie wrapped up in the comfort of his sheets, he kept his promise.

After a night that can only be described by both as _phenomenal_, he grabbed his phone and tapped the screen effortlessly. She was in too much of a sated daze to notice until he gently thrust the phone in her direction.

"Listen," he commanded gently. Curious, she brought the phone to her ear. Within a second, she was horrified to hear a hapless, slurred version of her voice.

"Freeeeddie! Why're you not theeere? Oh, I guess you're _there _there, just not pickin' up. Ugh! 's so loud in here, so I have to shout! DOES MY VOICE SOUND WEIRD? I think 't sounds weird. Fre-he-ddie, this's the wooooorst time for you not to pick up because I just remembered how much of an idiot I was…or am…I dunno. I jus' miss you and I should have never broken up with you and I still cry sometimes when I think about it. Soooo stupid. You'rrrre th' best guy ever and I _had_ you! You were _right _there and I just let you go because I was scared or something. I just…I want you back sooo freakin' bad and NO, that's NOT the margaritas talking! I'mma get you back, Freddie. I'm getting you back and I'm KEEPING you this time. 'n guess what? When I get you back…I'mma _do_ you, Freddie. I'mma do you alllll night long. F'r days. Okay, Wendy is looking at me all crazy and Sam's tryin' to grab my phone - wha' hey! Sam! Sam, gimme -"

The message ended abruptly while the recording gave Freddie the option of saving the message or deleting it for good. Mortified, Carly looked expectantly at him, still holding on to the phone and not at all surprise to find the smug smirk etched across his face.

"Well," he shrugged. "You kept your word!"

* * *

_Unload [__**un-lode**__] verb_

_2. To discharge (cargo or a load)_

Mrs. Benson set the final box down in the middle of the empty living room.

"That's the last of it, sweetheart," she sighed, tenderly rubbing her lower back. "Was Paige really so bad that you had to move clear across the state?"

Freddie chuckled as he handed her a cold bottle of water from the cooler. "Mom, I already told you that Paige wasn't a bad person."

"You really haven't said much about the break-up beyond 'Mom, I'm moving out,' so help me to understand," she sighed. "Everything was fine between you two a week and a half ago!"

"It was."

"So what changed? She was a lovely girl."

After a brief pause to think, Freddie shrugged and bent to retrieve a beverage for himself. "I didn't feel like carrying a dead relationship anymore."

Mrs. Benson rose her eyebrows at the first hint of honesty from her son regarding the sudden break-up. "Dead? That's a terrible thing to say, Freddie. She loved you."

They sat on the couch simultaneously and stared at the blank wall. "I loved her, too, mom, but it seemed like both of us were just passing the time with each other until we found something better."

"Really?" his mother asked. "So she wasn't too upset?"

Freddie chuckled lightly. "She was upset about the inconvenience of it all, but, ultimately, this is the best decision for both of us."

They sat in silence for a moment. He could practically hear his mother searching for more understanding, so he continued.

"She said, "I hope you two figure it out.'"

Mrs. Benson turned to face him, confused. "What?"

"The last thing she said just after she made it clear that I needed to be gone before she returned from her mother's," he explained. "She told me 'I hope you two figure it out.' I think the weight was getting to her, too."

Just before she could express her disbelief, Freddie's phone buzzed with an incoming text.

**From: Carly**

**Unpacked? :D**

**Apr 15, 12:02 am**

Freddie grinned, then replied.

**Getting there**

**To: Carly  
Sent: May 06, 3:03 pm**

* * *

**A/N: Just wanted to show everyone that I didn't disappear. :o)  
**

**I did, however, do the following the past couple months: move, got pregnant, and beta-read a couple of novels for a friend (which I will never do again). Needless to say, my "me" time dwindled considerably.  
**

**I'm tweaking the upcoming chapter for "iHit the Open Road II," as well. I hopefully be able to publish that in the upcoming weeks. I just wanted to get this out beforehand to get myself back in the mindset of writing again, kind of like when you start exercising again after not doing so for a while. Consider this a warm-up, if you will. :o)  
**

**I hope you're all doing well! I've missed this.  
**

**Hollaatchyagirl,  
**

**Phunky  
**


	10. Doe & Dough

_Doe [__**doh**__] noun_

_1. The female of a deer and other related animals._

"Oh, my God, the deer Patronus was _his?!_" Carly asked in disbelief, her eyes glued to the movie on Freddie's TV screen.

"Technically, it's a _doe_," Freddie clarified, "but yeah, Snape was the one who sent it to woods. It's the same as Lily's."

"So he **did** love her!" she squealed as she placed her hand over her heart, overwhelmed by the sentimentality of the scene before her. "That is so heartbreaking!"

Freddie turned towards her, seemingly more amused by Carly's enjoyment of the film than the film itself. "You know, for someone who claimed to have no interest in Harry Potter, -"

"I know, I know," she interrupted with an eye roll. "You were right. This is awesome. I might even read the books now!"

After years of begging her to take an interest in the series, she finally conceded and agreed to watch _part _of the first movie. To his surprise he found her easily agreeing to spend the entire weekend with him as they enjoy a movie marathon. '_Speaking of this weekend,_' he thought to himself grimly.

"So when's your date with Austin?" he asked while doing his best to keep the malevolence out of his voice.

"Yesterday," she answered quickly, keeping her focus on the screen.

Freddie's eyebrows furrowed. "How is that possible? You were here all day!"

Carly turned to her friend and shrugged her shoulders. "I was already having a good time here, so I canceled. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Carls," he assured her, not daring to get his hopes up by assuming that the pretty blush creeping across her face was due to her admission. They both returned their attention to the movie.

After a few moments of silence Carly asked, "So he really loved her all this time?"

Freddie simply nodded and replied, "Always."

* * *

_Dough [__**doh**__] noun_

_1. a thick mixture of flour or meal and water or milk, used for making bread, pastry, etc._

He was sick and she was, in her own words, "crap at making soup."

Instead of setting herself up for embarrassment (or a kitchen fire) she decided to make him a batch of her should-be-famous "Triple Peanut Butter Mouth Explosion" cookies, which he has openly declared as his favorite treat multiple times.

She, Sam, and Freddie made these cookies four months ago for a school bake sale. Not surprisingly, they had to make a separate batch just for Sam in order to keep her out of the supply meant for the sale. She wasted no time and snatched the bowl of raw dough and a large spoon. Perched on the counter, she dug in without abandon.

"Seriously, guys," she moaned with a mouthful of dough, "why even bother with the stupid oven? The dough is fantastic!"

While Carly agreed that the dough itself was delicious, there was something about the final product - with the added time, care, and heat - that she simply loved. She never minded putting in the extra work when she considered what was waiting for her in the end.

She hoped that Freddie appreciated the cookies (as well as the effort required to sneak said cookies past a certain overly concerned mother) and her attempt to alleviate some of his misery in her own special way. When she arrived with the gift she was instantly rewarded with a genuine smile across his ashen face.

"Honestly, Carly, I don't know what I'd do without you," he admitted hoarsely as he took in the aroma of the cookies. "I'm so lucky to have you as my best friend, you know that?"

Carly giggled and patted his leg gently. "Just hurry up and feel better, Freddie."

Though she didn't voice it, she felt lucky to be able to call him her best friend, too. There was, however, a tiny voice in the deepest crevice of her mind that took great pleasure in pointing out how their relationship could be even better with just the right amount of time, care, and heat…

* * *

**A/N: As an avid Harry Potter fan, that is the closest I will ever come to writing an HP fanfic. Thanks, JK Rowling, for an awesome series.**

**I hope everyone is doing well and please do not hesitate to leave a review! I love hearing from you. :o)**

**Have a great weekend!**

**Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


	11. Rapt & Wrapped

_Rapt [__**rapt**__] adj._

_1. Deeply absorbed; engrossed_

I think I've managed to memorize every single one of your facial expressions - every nuance, every little crease in your forehead and slant of your mouth - over the course of our friendship. Sure, I can be oblivious at times, but whenever I see your face (whenever it isn't behind a camera or pressed to a computer screen) I can confidently identify when you're worried, stressed, or excited. I also know when you're not present.

You're physically across the dance floor, gently swaying with your date in time to the soft music. Your eyes, though, are locked with mine. Even with the ballroom's intimately dim lighting, we both seemed to be mutually trapped in each other's gaze.

Again, oblivion and I are no strangers. I can't tell you what song is playing, nor where my date is or even the color of your date's hair. I can, however, identify that look of yours. That look - the sad droop of your eyebrows, slightly parted lips, that penetrating stare and even the subtle bob of your Adam's apple - is the look of longing, and I always recognize it in you.

I'm beginning to recognize it in myself, too.

* * *

_Wrapped [__**rapt**__] v._

_**1. **__To enclose, especially in paper, and fasten_

"Mommy, can I open my presents now?"

"Aubrey, why don't we let Daddy open his gifts and then we can open up all the presents Santa brought you, okay?' Carly suggested sweetly. She looked to Freddie for back up, but he was already too influenced by their daughter's puppy dog eyes and adorably pout.

"Ahh, it's Christmas," he sighed while handing his daughter the closest mid-sized wrapped box. "Have at it, sweetheart."

"YAY!" the little brunette squealed as she snatched the box and began to carefully- very carefully - unwrap the box before her. She plucked the bow from the top, then gently turned the box on it's side and slowly lifted the taped-down corner of the foil wrapping paper.

Carly gave her daughter a warm smile while laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Honey, you don't have to be so cautious with the wrapping," she advised, hoping to encourage her daughter to speed up the process. They had a lot of presents to get through.

The little girl turned to her mother with skeptical eyes. "_Mommy_, Grandma 'Rissa says that messes on Christmas make Santa very sad and that skips the houses of careless boys and girls. I don't want to ruin _next_ Christmas!"

Rather than respond to her Aubrey, Carly glared in Freddie's direction. She was happy to see that her husband had the decency to look ashamed by his mother's latest glimmer of insanity.

"I'll give her a call," Freddie sighed as he settled next to his wife for, what they guessed would be, a very long morning by the Christmas tree.

* * *

**A/N:** Just thought I'd pop in with a little Christmas cheer!

Since I typed most of this installment while holding my beautiful new daughter, who arrived three weeks ago as of tomorrow, I will dedicate this chapter to her. :o)

I hope everyone is having a happy December! Please don't hesitate to review, even if it's just to tell me how you're day is going. :oD

Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky


	12. Flee & Flea

_Flee [__**flee**__] verb_

_1. To run away, as from trouble or danger_

As soon as I found her on her favorite bench at Benaroya Park I silently thanked every romantic comedy cliché that lead me to her. If I've learned anything from the dozens of movies that the girls have dragged me to throughout the years, it's that you can always find a runaway in the one place dearest to him or her. In the event that she weren't here I would have headed to the old iCarly studio.

Nevertheless, Carly is here, perched on a bench that has been swallowed by satin and lace, feeding a small group of ducks bits of a hot dog bun. Surrounded in white, she looked like a wingless angel and she has never looked more beautiful, nor more lost.

I casually approached her as to not scare away her feathered friends, but she spotted me and almost instantly lost interest in them.

"Can I sit?" I asked out of courtesy. The last thing I wanted to do was crowd her if she wished to be alone.

In lieu of answering me, she gathered in her dress to make more room on the bench for me. This caused her dress to billow around her midsection. Now she looked more like a fancy cotton ball.

I sat and loosened my tie, not seeing an immediate need for formality.

"You know, Carls, it's customary for the bride to stick around at least until the end of the ceremony," I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "You know, _after_ the 'I do' part."

I was rewarded with a very brief twitch of the corner of her mouth before she resumed her sullen demeanor. "Does everyone hate me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Nobody that matters," I assured her, choosing to leave out the part where her ex-groom's trashy mother went on a very loud Carly-bashing tirade. I left right after calling her a name that would make my mother faint, then left Sam and Gibby to defend Carly's honor.

Carly accepted my answer and we sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at the duck pond before us. Without warning, I felt her soft hand intertwine with mine. I looked at her, but she kept her focus on the pond before her.

"I could feel the mistake I was about to make with each step towards the alter," she explained. "It felt heavier and heavier and by the time I was halfway there, my feet felt like cement blocks. I couldn't move up until the moment I turned around and ran."

I gently squeezed her hand. So many of us warned her about marrying Rob and I can't lie, I'm happy that she came to her senses, even if it was in the most public, mortifying way possible.

She tilted her head, resting it on my shoulder, and I let my thumb graze her knuckles back and forth. "You did the right thing."

She nuzzled her head a little closer.

"He was standing there with the priest and…I know that there's better. Much, much better."

I enclosed her hand in both of mine and decided to leave it at that. I would love for her to elaborate. I would love for her to tell me that it was me - seeing my face - that ushered in this epiphany of hers. And yes, that crazy, rom-com infected portion of my brain would love to carry her back to the church and have the priest marry us right there, in front of everyone.

Instead, we sat there in peace and watched the ducks.

* * *

_Flea [__**flee**__] noun_

_1. Any of various small, wingless, bloodsucking insects of the order Siphonaptera that have legs adapted for jumping and are parasitic on warm-blooded animals._

There was a sudden urgent banging at Freddie's door.

"Just a second!" he shouted as he finished typing the conclusion to the third paragraph of his thesis, sure that he would forget it had he not done so. Once finished he jogged the short distance from his desk to his door. Though he was ecstatic to open it and find Carly there, the sadness in her eyes immediately stripped him of his joy and filled him with mild panic.

"I just overheard the worst break-up in the history of ever, courtesy of my roommate and her now ex-boyfriend," Carly informed him frantically, slinking past him while removing her scarf.

Freddie exhaled in relief that the news wasn't worse. "_In the history of ever_? You don't hear how dramatic that sounds?"

"You weren't there, babe, it was bad," she insisted, removing her jacket while taking a seat on his bed. "Tanner came over and didn't even care that I was there! He just stormed in and was all 'Chloe, we're done,' and starts saying all this awful stuff, like how she's way too clingy and 'sucking the life's blood' out of him and that they needed to end it before - God, what was it that he said? - something about them waking up in ten years in a dead relationship -"

"Daaaamn," Freddie said with a whistle, taking a seat behind his girlfriend and letting her settle in between his legs. She leaned back against his chest and seemed to visibly calm down once he wrapped her arms around her stomach.

"Right?!" she replied. "I mean, she _loved_ him, and he's basically calling her a parasite…in front of me, no less! And he kept saying 'guys our age should be free to enjoy the full college experience,' whatever that means. The whole thing was a nightmare."

"Is she okay?"

"No, she's been caged in the study room for two hours on the phone with her best friend."

"…Are you okay?" Freddie asked while his lips were pressed to her temple. "You seem shaken."

Carly settled further back into his chest. "Freddie, am I too clingy?"

Suddenly, he understood the source of her worries. "Ahhhh."

"All the stuff Tanner complained about is stuff I do with you," Carly explained. "I call you all the time, I spend every night with you, any and all free time is spent _with you_, Freddie."

"I know, it's awesome," Freddie countered with a chuckle. Carly turned around with an expression of shock, which only made him laugh a little louder. "Oh, come _on, _I've been chasing you since we were twelve, _of course _I'd want to spend as much time with you as possible."

He was happy to finally see a hint of a smile on Carly's face. "So I'm not sucking your life's blood-"

Freddie interrupted her with a firm kiss on her lips. "No," he replied resolutely, followed by another kiss. "He's a moron and you're not some flea or tick, you're the love of my life, you weirdo."

Carly's tiny grin exploded into a face-splitting smile just before Freddie pounced, landing on top of her and peppering her face with kisses. She was instantly reduced to a mass of snorts and giggles.

"Freddie, stop!" she cried. "You're gonna make me fall off the bed!"

"No worries," he assured her as he scooped his arms under her body, "just cling to me."

* * *

**A/N: **I hope everyone enjoyed these (long) drabbles. I've been sitting on the idea of Carly being a runaway bride for a while and was eager to get it in writing. The second half wrote itself after reminiscing about an old roommate of mine who would literally break-up with her boyfriend once a month. I tried imagining how Carly would feel in an environment like that.

I hope everyone is doing well! Please review, if you'd like! If you'd rather not, that's not a problem! I appreciate you reading, nonetheless. Hope all is well with you, friends!

Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky


	13. Meat & Meet

_Meat [__**meet**__] n._

_1. the flesh of animals as used for food. _

"I ended up going for one of the highest bids of the night and Debbie got all drunk and kept calling me 'Hot Bod' all around the bar. The whole thing was so gross."

"Aren't there laws against auctioning off women to a bunch of drunk, horny men, even if it is for charity? Greek life is so weird, Carly."

Carly shrugged and continued to leisurely walk alongside Freddie through the mall. "On the bright side, the sorority raised a ton of money. Still, I felt icky…like a piece of meat."

She turned her head at the sound of Freddie chuckling under his breath. "Something funny, Benson?"

"Yes, very," he replied instantly.

"What?"

"Did you know that Sam wrote a blog years ago about the week we dated?" Freddie asked.

Confused by the sudden change in topic, Carly slowly replied, "nooooo."

"Well, she did," he continued, "and the amount of detail is astonishing. People still call me foreign bacon. _Still_. Carly, I _literally_ get compared to meat almost every day."

"That's entirely different!" Carly shrieked.

Freddie scoffed. "Yeah, you're the gorgeous cut of steak and I'm the geeky, reliable, hopeless slice of Bolivian pork."

Carly stepped in front of Freddie and stopped them outside of the Funky Duck shoe store. "If it makes you feel any better," she placated, "the next time we date, I'll make sure you're compared to something much more important." She glanced at the store next to them, then turned back to Freddie and gave a quick nod to the window display. "Like shoes!"

She turned around on her heels and continued walking, hiding a coy smile and leaving a speechless Freddie in her wake.

* * *

_Meet [__**meet**__] v._

_2. to become acquainted with; be introduced to_

Your hands.

Your hands were the first things I noticed about you. They were almost all long, slender fingers and delicate nail beds. What I loved most about them was how you would unclench them, then curl your fingers just slightly, like you wanted to grab something, _anything… _I saw it as an early sense of curiosity. I like to think you got that from me.

When you eventually opened your eyes, there was a special warmth there. I expected them to betray a sense of terror (and rightfully so, it being your first glimpse of the real world). Instead, there was a genuine happiness there and, more importantly, a certain excitement to be there with us. Those eyes were clearly a gift from your mother.

And then I took you in entirely: bright eyes, flexing fingers, tiny shoulders carrying weighty expectations. While your mother hoped that old videos of her singing would inspire you to take voice lessons and I prayed that your first video game would spark a love for technology, I anticipated the days when we'd all sit down and watch vintage iCarly episodes as we talked to you about exploring your creativity to its highest potential. That was the scene that I clung to for the previous 32 weeks, ever since we first found out about you. And once you arrived, healthy and safe, that scene became more of a reality than it ever was. How overwhelmingly beautiful.

And all I could say as I held you, between the tears and the kisses, was "I'm so, so happy to finally meet you," over and over again.

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Saturday! I hope you enjoyed this installment. If you liked it, hated it, wish for the day that I decide to never sit in front of a crappy laptop again...why don't you leave it in a review?! I enjoy reading them and they inspire me to keep going. If you wish to silently lurk, that's cool, too. I love all my readers. :o)

Also, if you're following iHit the Open Road II and you haven't done so already, please read the latest chapter, chapter 15. I hope you like it!

Thank you all so much for reading and continuing to support! I appreciate you all so much.

Have a great weekend and Hollaatchyagirl,

Phunky


	14. Shift

_Shift [__**shift**__] noun_

_1.a person's scheduled period of work_

"Sorry, Freddie, say that again?" Carly asked after closing her bedroom door, blocking out Spencer and Socko's combined commotion.

"Saturday night," he repeated carefully into to the webcam. "I know it's last minute, but I didn't find out about the Olliviere exhibit until today."

"Oh?" Carly mused, looking over at the flowery calendar pinned to the wall just to her left.

"Yeah, and I was originally going to take Miranda to the movies on Sunday, but the exhibit is only here until Saturday and Olliviere is her favorite sculptor. She would kill me if I didn't take her."

"Oh!" Carly responded, careful to keep her expression friendly at the mention of his girlfriend. Internally, she was fuming. Their time together had significantly dropped since Freddie entered his relationship and she had only just learned how to mask her resentment. She had casually mentioned the issue to him once in a conversation and it resulted in an argument that lasted two days, ending a promise from Freddie to make more time for just him and Carly after a slew of apologies from both sides.

Three months had passed and they still barely saw each other unless they worked the same shift. Carly didn't count working together as quality time. Still, she had promised herself that she wouldn't fight with him again.

She took one last look at the blank Saturday square on her calendar before returning to her webcam.

"I'm sorry, Freddie," she finally said with phony remorse. "I'm pretty booked that day."

"Yeeeaah, I figure you might be," Freddie sighed. "No worries, Carly, I'll figure something out."

"I'msureyouwillheythatsoundslikeSpencercallinggott agobye!" Carly blurted before abruptly shutting off the webcam and groaning loudly.

She had promised not to get angry with him…that didn't mean she had to help him.

* * *

_Shift [__**shift**__] noun  
_

_1. a change or transfer from one place, position, direction, person, etc., to another._

"I hate it when the creepy HR guy in my office tells me how much I look like his cousin every single day."

"I hate the phrase 'It is what it is."

"I hate it when someone says something mundane on Splashface and then follows it with 'Carry on,' as if the thing they said before that truly stopped everyone in their tracks. Like, 'Oh, I just beat level 34 of Candy Smush. Carry on.'"

"I hate when people say 'spoiler alert' before telling me something I didn't care much about in the first place."

"I hate when people go on and on about how a movie wasn't 'as good as the book.'"

"Hey," Freddie exclaimed, appearing hurt by the revelation. "I just did that yesterday!"

"I know," Carly smiled devilishly. "And I hated it."

They both dissolved into laughter in the iCarly studio, their chopsticks held aloft and their sushi temporarily forgotten.

"Oh, gaaaaaaahd," Freddie groaned playfully. "When did we become such jaded, cynical jerks?"

Carly shrugged while trapping a piece of her avocado roll between her chopsticks. "I'm just preparing my new 'I hate everything' attitude for college. It's only six months away, you know."

"Well, it's nice to know that I'm not the only one with petty pet peeves," Freddie replied, raising his can of cola to her as if he were giving a toast.

"NOT petty!" Carly cried indignantly. "Totally legitimate. I rank that 'carry on' thing up there with tardiness or chewing with your mouth open."

Freddie chuckled. "Wow! Okay, if we're being honest, then 'it is what it is' has to be in my top three of annoyances. No, top two."

"What's your top annoyance?"

"Obliviousness. I hate when someone is completely oblivious to what's in front of them."

He didn't mean for that last part to refer to her, but the knowledge that it _could_ apply to her froze him in place. To his chagrin, the notion did not get past his lunch companion.

"Does that remind you of anyone in particular?" she asked cautiously as she slowly brought her questioning eyes up to meet his.

The atmosphere that was once playful had shifted to something that was tense and slightly anxious. Freddie had trouble finding an answer that wouldn't cause a major fight, so he opted for a tactic that always proved affective: _avoid, avoid, avoid_."

"Uh, you know what else I hate?" Freddie perked up nervously. "The word 'squabble.'"

Carly closed her eyes and gave a slight, disappointed shake of her head as a she used one of her sticks to toy carelessly with her wasabi. "Yup, super annoying."

* * *

**A/N: Nope, not dead. :o)**

**And nope, I haven't forgotten about iHit the Open Road II. Not one bit, my heavily missed friends!**

**I just wanted to get something out of my head and in black-and-white, finally. Babies, apparently, require a lot of attention. :-D**

**Also, I've decided to take a stab at more original work in efforts to challenge myself. I haven't progressed that far at all, but I'm making the effort.**

**I really hope you're all doing well! If you read this, or anything else I've written, thank you so much! Please feel compelled to leave a review!**

**Love you all and Hollaatchyagirl,**

**Phunky**


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